


Just Over the Horizon

by Siriusfanatic



Series: At World's End [7]
Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 10:03:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siriusfanatic/pseuds/Siriusfanatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As dooms day for the pirates approaches, Jack gets some advice on his love life from unexpected sources, and Barbossa gets a surprise declaration in the midst of battle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Over the Horizon

Jack wasn't sure how it was possible, but ShipWreck Cove, a place he'd often called "home" in his youth, seemed some how smaller over time. Then again, he had not stepped foot into fabled pirate strong hold since he was but a young man, and many a year had passed since that fateful time. Back then he was not but the legendary Captain Teague's whelp of a troublesome child. Now he stood here, a pirate lord in his own rite, captain of his own ship; his own legend.  
Were the circumstances of his visit not so grim he might have been found drinking with the others, singing songs and telling tales of great glory and valor and hearing the like in kind. But no one seemed in the mood for story telling. Fear ran rampant through the halls and sea-spray slick bridges and stone carved passages between the gathered wrecks that made up the city. A ominous cloud had surrounded the fortress as they awaited their judgement come dawn.

Jack chose to spend what could quite possibly be his last remaining hours of peace upon this mortal plain tucked into a dim corner, his father seated across from him, strumming his guitar absently. He pushed a bottle of rum into the pirate captain's hand, and Jack drank eagerly, giving the old pirate a bleary stare. "How are ye, Jackie?" Teague asked at length, giving his son smile, exaggerating the lines of his aging and sun bronzed face.  
"Pardon?" Jack asked sleepily, blinking in surprise as the mutual silence between them was broken.  
"I've not seen ye in years. I've often heard rumors that you were dead. Hanged, drowned, even eaten..." Jack smirked, his kohl lined eyes squinting a little as he did. "Well, as you can see, rumors of my death have been greatly fabricated."  
"Aye. But ye have been to the Locker." Teague replied. Jack took another deep drink and stared at the floor. "Aye."  
"That be something worth the tellin'. Don't ye think?"  
"Is to long a tale for one evening's telling," his son replied with a lopsided, gold-tooth grin. "Perhaps another night." Teague tipped his head, the brim of his feathered hat dipping a bit lower of the jade green bandana and jostling the many bright bits of silver and other shinny trinkets he'd braided into his own dark mane of hair, so much like his son's. "Suit yourself." he mumbled. He waited until Jack took another drink before asking; "And who was it brought ye back?"  
Sparrow choked a little on the mouthful of rum and coughed harshly for a moment before asking; "What was the question?"  
Teague smirked and nodded his head towards the man standing a bit away from them, speaking to Elizabeth Swann; Hector Barbossa. "It's time to put all outstanding debts aside. We move as one, or not at all." the old pirate said cryptically. Jack grimaced. "I don't like the sound of that at all, I don't." He leaned a little closer, as if trying to see if Teague was speaking with a clear head or if he was deeply drunk and Jack simply could no longer tell. He felt a scurrying below the table as the old Code Keeper's mangy mutt made it's presence known and came to lay at his master's side. Teague gave the lonely place behind it's ears a scratch and smiled. "Since when are you in favor of that rotten sod anyway?" Jack asked. "Seems as I recall ye once threatened to hang him from the mast for bein' a might too friendly with my then all too innocent self."  
Teague chuckled low, creating a throaty rumble, "Any father would have done as much. I was trying to keep ye from learning the hard way how fickle such relationships can be."  
Jack frowned, casting another glance towards Barbossa and thinking on his sudden coldness earlier that day on deck. "Well, ye failed there then. I fell for the lout anyway."  
"Burned, were you?"  
Jack frowned bitterly into his rum. "Scorched, is more the word."  
"Ah Jackie..." the old pirate sighed, settling back into his chair. "We all have received such wounds in our time, if we're lucky. Learn from them and move on."  
"That's exactly what I intend to do." He grinned. But Teague was still looking at him with an expression Jack could not discern between pity and love. "Don't move on alone, Jackie." In response his son groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nose, the coin dangling from his forehead swaying lightly across his bandana. "There, now I know yer drunk. You're talkin' in circles."  
He made as if to stand, but Teague surprised him by reaching out and putting a hand to his cheek. "Welcome home." His son was stunned, for Teague had never been a man of great affection, not even towards his only child. He smiled at him in return, laying his hand over the old pirate's in return. "I wish it were a happier occasion."  
He turned to leave then, but Teague called him back. "Oy! Give yer mum a kiss before ye go traipsing off." He said, holding the shrunken and mummified head of the woman he claimed to be Jack's mother. The pirate winced awkwardly, then placed a hesitant peck upon the thing and grimaced. "Love you, mum..." He shuddered, finishing his tankard of rum in one big swig and sauntering off as quickly as possible, leaving Teague chuckling after him.

He made to leave the courtroom, cut from a great rotting haul of a ship centuries old, only to encounter Elizabeth. "Jack!" She had not spoken to him since her appearance several long hours ago, and then it had been cursory and argumentative. She put her arms around him in a friendly embrace, and Jack accepted it, glad for all purposes that she was safe and sound as she seemed.  
"Your Highness," he teased, winking in reference to her new title as The Pirate King. She rolled her eyes at him and looked him over, "Why did you choose me?"  
"Why not?" Jack shrugged with a smile, and Elizabeth knew it would be no good to press him further on his reasoning, if he had any. He gave her a small peck on the cheek, "You'd best get some rest. Tomorrow promises quite an arduous and difficult task ahead of us. But then again I suppose you'll see dear William then, won't you?" He made to turn and leave her, but she tugged at his sleeve, pulling him back and looking at him seriously. "You need to speak to Barbossa."  
"And why would that be, luv?"  
"Jack..."  
The tawny skinned pirate shrugged her off before turning to address the remainder of the court who were lingering about in varying states of drunkenness. "Is everybody in this ruddy rat hole so invested in my love life?! Really?"  
The Frenchman gave him a little wave and Jack made a lewd gesture before storming out, leaving Elizabeth standing frustrated in his wake.

 

Barbossa sought solitude along the twisting piers and emptied streets, noting how little the city had changed since he had last laid eyes upon it, save perhaps a shift or two in wreckage as the oldest remains rotted away and fell into the sea and the few new ones settled into their new resting place. The complex web of torn and barren hauls, decks, fallen masts and all manner of odds and ends that made up the pirate city held an eerie hush to them as opposed the boisterous singing and laughter that could usually be heard from every crack and crevice, along with the occasional gun shot and scream. In the brig of The Black Pearl, Tia Dalma remained a prisoner, and would until tomorrow. Hector still had every intention of fulfilling his vow to her, whether the court would agree to it or not. After all, he now possessed all but one of the pieces of eight.  
Tucked safely away inside a velvet sachet inside his coat, Barbossa withdrew the black bead that had once belonged to Sao Feng from the lot. It was still hitting him, he supposed, that would never again see Sao Feng on this mortal plain. Hector was surprised at himself that he felt anything at all, much less sorrow for his loss. After all, he'd let that part of his heart go long ago, and not for Sao's lack of trying, had never been able to rekindle that flame that had once burned so brightly for him. But now knowing that it was extinguished all together seemed somehow tragic. Barbossa frowned scornfully at his own sentimentality and made to tuck the trinket away again when he caught sight of a figure standing on the pier in front of him.  
He recognized it instantly as Sao, dressed in white robes. "Sao!" He almost laughed. Of course Elizabeth had been wrong. The woman was probably too frightened and ran off before seeing him escape the wreckage. He moved towards the man, trying to call his attention to him, ready for an explanation when he stopped abruptly. The image of Sao turned, looking at him with a flat, sad expression. The front of his robes were stained red with blood around his torso, dripping down onto the his feet and then disappearing completely. Hector realized he was staring at a ghost.  
"Hector."  
Barbossa backed away slowly, not wanting to get too close to the specter. "So it's true," he mumbled, mouth suddenly dry. He felt a great sense of pity for the man for whom he'd previously only felt contempt for. "Oh Sao..."  
"The heart," the spirit spoke, his voice watery and hollow sounding. "It is the key to victory."  
"Heart? What heart?"  
Sao did not answer and looked back towards the dark bay and the little glimpse of the ocean beyond. Hector made to reach for him, seeing him about to step into water and disappear. He did not want him to be lost forever, as he had seen those souls abandoned by Jones adrift in the other world. "Don't go! Don't...leave me."  
Sao almost smiled at him, touched his face with a cold hand and was gone. Hector was left staring after him, the sea breeze fanning his hair and making him feel colder despite the heavy humid air that surrounded them.  
"Hector!"  
He almost jumped out of his skin at this new voice calling his name and turned to see Jack making his way towards him. "Goodness, you're much faster than you look." he breathed, somewhat winded from chasing him down it seemed. Hector blinked at him, feeling dazed after his encounter. Sparrow noticed and blinked out into the bay as well. "Something interesting there?"  
"Aye. An ill omen."  
"Ah," he nodded. "I've enough of those for a life time." He gave a smirk and when Hector did not return it he began nervously fiddling with his the beads in his hair. "I don't appreciate this new game you've started."  
"What?" Barbossa mumbled, only half hearing him. Jack's brow furrowed beneath the line of his head scarf, irritated with his distraction. "First you claim to only need me for the piece of eight, then you're falling all over yourself, spouting romantic gibberish about still being in love with me," he began pacing around the other man, too worked up to stand still, "then I offer myself up to you on a silver platter, and you turn me away like yesterday's scraps!"  
Barbossa blinked, realizing that the other man was in an absolute huff over his most recent actions; "Jack, slow down, you don't understand..." he muttered, trying keep his thoughts straight but it seemed impossible with the way the other man was carrying on.  
Sparrow grabbed him by the front of his coat, yanking him close, pushed forehead to forehead with him; "Do you want me, or don't you?!"  
The other pirate stammered, "I...er...that is...You tell me!"  
Jack snarled and Hector could smell the rum on his breath. "I asked you first!"  
In return the other pirate grabbed his shirt as well, both holding each other threateningly. "You listen to me for one damn minute! There's bigger things at stake here than whether or not I be willin' to take yer sorry carcass back, understand!"  
"If it's so sorry, why can't you keep your dirty hands off it then?" Jack queried, his temper growing hotter all the time. Barbossa shouted in frustration and pushed the man back, stomping off down the pier again, but Jack followed him. "Oh no! You're not walking away from me this time, Barbossa!"  
"Let me be, ye idiot!"  
"I can't!"  
The statement surprised the older man and he finally paused. Jack was behind him, looking angry, lost and desperate to voice something that he couldn't manage the words for. "Don't pretend to not love me, Hector. I know you do."  
Barbossa shook his head. "Aye, I love you. But you don't know what ye want, Sparrow. So what's the point in words if there's naught but hollow actions behind them?" He asked tiredly. "Besides, come tomorrow, none of it will matter."

 

***

 

Those same words were ringing in Jack's head, still hours later, no longer a free man but a prisoner aboard The Flying Dutchman. Though this was his intention, at least in part, he now began to question his sanity on the idea. In fact, he began to question his sanity as a whole. His other selves certainly were.  
In the middle of a delirium from which he could not seem to find any escape, and knowing full well that outside his friends were preparing for a sudden and gruesome death in the name of all they knew, Jack Sparrow floundered for an answer. And a voice broke his hysteria.  
"Jack?"  
Blinking up through the barnacle crusted darkness, Jack saw a glimmer of a familiar face. Bill Turner was looking at him curiously from across his cell. It seemed Jack's restless rambling had disturbed his near catatonic state. Sparrow lifted himself from the damp bench, gripping the bars though they cut his fingers as he stared in horror at what had become of the man he had once loved. "Bootstrap...!"  
"It is you then," the man grinned, dislodging himself with a crack from the ship's wall, where apparently he had taken up residence. Though he was more creature than man by this point, the pirate found familiarity in the man's eyes, which were still shining sadly. "I've missed you."  
Jack reached for him, almost afraid to touch him. Bill had been a terrifying apparition when he'd appeared to him almost six months ago in the rum locker of the Black Pearl. But then he had been little more of a watery, sea-weed laden ghost. Now he had become a monster as Jones' corruption spread to every corner of his ship and it's ill-fated crew. "Oh William," he gawked, touching his fingers to the little bit of human skin that remained of his face and found it cold and clammy. "I'm so sorry."  
Will touched his hair, seeming to sink into the bars. Jack had no doubt he could become any part of the ship he chose at this juncture. "You can't be here. You shouldn't be here," he insisted. "Not you, Jack."  
Sparrow gritted his teeth, biting back tears. "I know. But I'm going to get out. And when I do, I'm taking you with me." He promised. "It's going to be fine, you'll see." He turned, rattling the bars and trying to force them free. Bill watched him curiously, feeling the ship lurch beneath their feet as the battle above them began. He heard Jones shout for all hands to deck and knew he must obey. "You have to leave me behind, Jack." he said softly.  
The other man shook his head furiously. "No, no, no...not again. Not this time, Bill, I won't! I'll find the heart and stab it. I'll set you free!" He was shaking the rotting iron so hard now that it seemed likely he would hurt himself. Will's hand closed around Jack's. "You have to let me go," he whispered. "Let me go."  
Sparrow bit his lip, still shaking his head. Bill turned from him then, shuffling down the rotting deck. Jack screamed after him, but the man no longer heard him. All he could hear was the call of his Captain. Jack heard the clunk and clang of metal and realized that he had knocked one of the hinges loose. Grinning, he kicked the other free and was soon making his own way down the dank and dripping corridor. Bill's words had struck something in him. The Bill Turner he had known was dead and gone, and what remained was a shell. And even in the unlikely event that his plan worked, and Jones's curse was lifted...Bill was still out of his reach. Jack loved him, or perhaps truly only the memory of him, for he had accepted Bill's death as fact long ago. All this time he knew that he'd been holding on to a ghost, some of which he'd regained when he'd fallen for young Will Turner. Not surprising then, that it hadn't worked out. It wasn't fair to William, and Jack had always known this on some level. Which is why he did not begrudge him his betrayal or the love he had for Elizabeth. He hoped Will would forgive him.  
He couldn't spend his life chasing after ghosts. Not when he had something of flesh and blood waiting for him; who needed him now more than ever.

 

***

 

Barbossa could barely see for the pounding rain that covered them. It was like being drown from both above and below as sea and sky met in an epic battle to destroy all in their wake. It affirmed his growing hatred of water, or at least being submerged in it, but his mind was not on that now. He gripped the rods of the wheel with all his strength, doing his best just to keep the Pearl from spinning into the void, even as canon fire thundered all around him; swords clashed and pistols exploded in sparks and pirate, privateer and the damned of Jones' crew alike fell around him. So far he was barely fending off they malay around him, glad for a full pistol belt and the skill brought on by years of sea-faring combat. But he was finally forced away when a canon ball struck nary a few short inches from his head, cutting into deck behind him. Hector could feel the burn of it on his skin even in the rain. He whirled away, shouting for assistance as he was forced to draw his sword and defend himself against some unholy sea thing that was eager to have a taste of him.  
Out of the corner of his eye saw a blur of movement come swinging at him. Stabbing his foe between the ribs and giving his cutlass a brutal twist to remove it's guts, he drew back, ready to attack a new foe, only to have Jack Sparrow come crashing into him. The two were hurled across the slick and heaving deck, and both would have gone right over into the whirlpool beneath if Jack hadn't hooked one of his boots beneath the edge of the railing and tugged backwards.  
"JACK?!"  
"Hello Hector darling!" The drenched pirate beamed, eyes bright and almost crazed. "Lovely weather we're having!" Barbossa laughed at the absurdity of the statement and knocked them both flat upon deck. "Aye! Never seen better!"  
They scrambled to get their footing, looking out at the chaos that had consumed their ship. They could not look long, for the next moment they were being charged by a slew of suicidal E.I.T.C. sailors who were keen to die with a bit of pirate blood on their swords. "While I be pleased ta see ya, Sparrow–!" Barbossa barked, kicking one unfortunate man in the face and sending him over onto the others before whirling and shooting another man, "–I can't help but wonder why it is yer here! Wasn't there some business ye had aboard the Dutchman!?"  
"Aye!" Jack replied, still grinning like a mad man. "I'll about to it! But," He ducked just in time to save himself from having his head removed from his shoulders by an advancing monster and in turned crushed the abominations head in with the heel of his pistol. "First I have to tell you something!"  
A sudden shudder of the ship followed by the splintering of the deck rocked them both and Jack grabbed hold of a flailing rat line, wrapping both himself and Barbossa in it to keep from being swept into the raging sea. They were forced to cling together for dear life, wincing as their fingers struggled to maintain their hold on the wet rigging. "Now be not the time!"  
"It's now or never!" Jack replied desperately, catching the man's attention completely and causing him to look into his face. "Hector, I still love you."  
Though the salt water stung his eyes and rain filled his mouth, all Hector could do was stare and gawk. "WHAT?!"  
Jack suddenly lost his grip upon the line, or it was cut, he couldn't quite tell, but he knew that his body suddenly felt the very real grip of gravity and he was crashing down. Barbossa's arm came around his middle and held him fast to him and somehow they managed to glide through the hail and biting rain to land somewhere midship. "Ye'll not be leavin' me so easily this time!" the drenched man replied, swept up in the hysteria at all.  
"Never again, luv." Jack promised. He wrestled the jade dragon ring from his finger and pressed it tightly in Barbossa's palm. "I'll be back for it, savvy?" He smiled again, and Barbossa gripped him close and kissed him passionately, knowing it might be for the last time. "I'll be holdin' you to that, Jack!"  
Somewhere further down deck, Ragetti and Pintel spotted them and shared a grin and a sigh before quickly retreating to relative safety below deck.  
Another near fatal blow finally forced the pair to break apart, Barbossa fighting his way back to the helm where Cotton was struggling, while Jack took up a line and waited for the Dutchman to come within closer range once more. Barbossa then remembered Sao's warning. "Jack!" he screamed. "The heart!"  
"Aye, I know!"  
He kicked off, swinging out over the gaping maw of the maelstrom and Barbossa could only grin ferociously in his wake. "Aye, of course ye know! You're Jack Sparrow!" He reached the helm again just in time before Cotton buckled under the force of it, and locked both knees and pushed with all his strength, feeling muscles strain and tear and bones grind in result. The Pearl had tangled herself with the main mast of the Flying Dutchman and the pair were being sucked lower and lower.  
He did not know how long he held her, twice nearly being crushed or stabbed, and taking several glancing blow to his back and shoulders, for he had long lost sight of Jack and anything that was happening aboard The Dutchman. He found himself praying in that moment that Calypso would keep her word. He had certainly fulfilled his.

Suddenly above him the storm seemed to lessen, but below the ocean was closing in. Soon there would be no going back; "She's takin' us down! Make quick, or it's the locker for us all!" He took one last desperate glance across the ship, but there was no sign of Jack, nor Will or Elizabeth. Setting his teeth, he knew he could wait no longer. He turned the wheel hard and fast, finally breaking the Pearl free. The swell carried her upward, and he watched as the Dutchman was consumed below. He could feel nothing, for survival was still chief among his priorities. As the ship straightened herself, shedding her decks of water and hapless bodies weighing her down, he looked back at the foam forming upon the water. The rest of the surviving crew was doing just as much, staring bugged eyed and slack jawed at the death they had narrowly evaded.  
Gibbs was as his side, and Barbossa knew his eyes were searching for the same thing his were. Bodies bobbed in the surf, but none of them were Jack's. "Any survivors?!" Gibbs shouted below, but there came no affirmative answer.  
Hector found himself propped against the wheel for support, staring at the ring that adorned his finger and feeling the loss of it's owner. He had nearly given into grief when Gibbs shouted, gripping his arm. "THERE THEY ARE!"  
The captain nearly knocked the old man over to look; Sure enough, there floundering in the tide was Jack Sparrow and Elizabeth Swann. "Bring her about!" He bellowed, racing down deck as they moved in closer to pick them up, the crew casting lines into sea.  
Elizabeth came up first, wet and shaking. She barely seemed to notice Barbossa and he let her pass into more capable hands, looking behind her. Jack came up next, suitably water logged and weary, but in one piece. Barbossa took his hand, heaved him aboard, tugging the man straight into his arms and holding him there as tightly as he could. "I shouldn't be surprised," he muttered. "But grateful I am." The crew stared at this display and both captains ignored their eyes. Eventually Jack freed himself from the older man's grip, kissing him quickly and turning away. There was a fury in him now that Hector had not seen since they were young, and he knew the cause of it as well. The glaring absence of William Turner.

Gibbs was at their side, looking worriedly at his dazed and dripping friend and trying to envoke some sense into him; "Jack, the armada's still out there, the Endeavour's coming up hard to starboard, and I think it's time we embraced that oldest and noblest of pirate traditions..."  
But Jack ignored him, stepping closer to the bow, watching the ship's approach. "Never actually been one for tradition....luff the sails and lay on iron!"  
Both Barbossa and Gibbs flashed each other a worried glance and the other captain stepped forward. "Belay that, or we'll be a sitting duck!"  
"Belay that 'belay that'!"  
"But captain..."  
"Belay!"  
"The armada..."  
"Belay!"  
"The Endeavor...!"  
"Belay!"  
"But we...!"  
Sparrow finally whirled on his first mate; "Kindly SHUT IT!!" And stomped off, taking the wheel, Hector following curiously behind. "It's blood ye want for the whelp, aye?"  
"Blood and more." Jack muttered darkly. "I've a debt to pay."  
There was a roar of water then on their Port side, catching all's attention as from the depths The Flying Dutchman rose once more, her haul and masts creaking under the exertion and seeming to shed themselves of broken wood. Upon closer inspection, it was actually more than that. It was Jones' curse falling away. Within moments she had transformed before their eyes, looking more like the ancient ship she had once been.  
Glancing across her bow, Jack and Hector saw a familiar face at the wheel. "Ready on the guns!" Will's shout could be heard across the distance. Jack gave a snarling grin into the wind, his fiery eyes on the approaching Endeavor. "Full canvas!"  
"Aye, full canvas!" Barbossa agreed, heartily.

 

***

 

The burning and splintering remains of The Endeavor were still floating around in the churning tide as The Black Pearl and The Flying Dutchman drew nearer to shore together, ready for a last meeting and a well deserved rest. Surviving members of the E.I.T.C huddled carefully guarded upon the deck, shivering under damp blankets and just grateful to be alive. They decided they would drop the lot at Tortuga as soon as they could; not wanting to let the sorry souls foul up Shipwreck Cove anymore than it already was.  
A small group made their way to The Flying Dutchman; consisting of Jack, Barbossa and Elizabeth. The young woman was watching the approaching ship with eagerness, though she was still shaken by witnessing the death of her newly wed husband aboard it's decks. Both men kept close to her, a comforting hand on each side. They lifted her aboard first, Jack following, then Barbossa.  
Before Jack could even reach the top of the deck, Elizabeth was in Will's arms, kissing and crying all at once. He felt a sense of the same emotion looking at the young man, the grim decision made to save his life. He did not disturb the two and kept a respectful distance, only to find himself facing another Turner. "Well done." Sparrow blinked, seeing Bootstrap clearly for the first time since their last parting on the deck of the Pearl. Jack beamed in relief, touching his face and feeling warm real human skin there. "A vast improvement, mate." He grinned. "Starfish really weren't a good look for you."  
Laughter bubbled up out of the other man, the likes he had not experienced in decades, and he put an arm around Jack and drew him in to kiss him. Jack went and relished the feeling, remembering his last goodbye to this man. For this had to be farewell again as well; it couldn't last. Bill seemed reluctant to release him, but eventually allowed the smaller, darker pirate room to breathe. "Thank you, for my freedom. And for my son."  
They looked together at Will and Elizabeth, whom seemed to have forgotten everything else around them. Jack's face saddened a little. "Do not thank me for that," he replied, "it's not the fate I wanted for him."  
"We can't always choose." Bill nodded wisely. Sparrow was still gazing off wistfully when Bill noticed movement behind him, which was Barbossa coming aboard deck at last. One look at the man and the elder Turner pushed Jack protectively aside, drawing his dagger and charging the other pirate; "YOU!"  
All three; Jack, Will and Elizabeth, cried out and rushed to stop the man. Barbossa was taken by surprise, and so Bill had time to grab him, but Will grabbed his father's hand before it could bury the blade inside Barbossa's chest, and Jack put himself between the two men. "William! William, it's alright!"  
"Murderer! Jack, get out of the way!" Bill spat as if he were still in the grips of the curse's delusions. But his son was finally able to force down his hand and Jack was able to put a safe barrier between the two old enemies. "Bill listen to me! Hector's with me! He's with me, dammit!"  
At this Boostrap's eyes widened, looking from one pirate to the next. Sparrow gave him a nervous grin as Barbossa put a protective arm around him, eyeing Bill easily. "Bootstrap." he regarded, his smugness gone, replaced by wariness.  
"You're...together?"  
"Quite recently in fact." Hector allowed himself a small grin this time, fingers splayed neatly across Jack's chest over his heart. "Of course, it took a curse and two killings to get us there. Right, Jack?"  
Bootstrap continued to regard them with confused and wounded eyes. "Aye, it's...a very long and messy story. Of which is actually frightfully boring, you wouldn't want to hear it." He said, hoping to wave off the explanation. Bill sheathed his dagger, much to everyone's relief and looked away moodily, dark hair creeping out from beneath his cap. "Well...I suppose I should be a gentlemen and bow out quietly then." he replied. "I can't very well expect you to wait for a dead man, can I?"  
"Oh William," But Bill shushed him and held him close again. "I hope that he makes you happy, Jack. Truly, I do." Sparrow released him reluctantly, and then Bootstrap turned to Barbossa, who had been eyeing them silently feeling the dull flicker of the jealous flame that had once been. Bill turner stared at him hard, trying to intimidate him. "Barbossa."  
"Bill."  
Without warning, Turner cocked back his fist and cracked Barbossa across the face with it, knocking him against the railing, moaning and rubbing his jaw. Elizabeth gasped, moving a bit closer to see if he was alright, as Jack stood blinking in shock and Will stood proudly beside his father. "Did that feel good?" his son asked.  
"You've no idea." Bill chuckled, shaking out of his hand and rubbing his knuckles.  
"Well," Hector groaned, rubbing his jaw and spitting a bit of blood onto the deck. "I suppose I rightly deserved that." He smiled at William Turner. "Would you like a go at me too, captain? Seems to be the price for winning Jack."  
At this Bill Turner turned a wide eye towards his son. "Will?"  
Young Turner turned sheepishly towards his father. "Well....I," Bill looked to Elizabeth, who just sighed and shook her head, before turning on Jack once more. "Now, Bill, before you–!"  
"You leacher!" Sparrow was dealt a similar blow as Barbossa, knocking the smaller man back into Hector's arms, who had to hold him up right. "Did I deserve that?"  
"Most assuredly." Barbossa nodded.  
Bill stormed off down deck, and for the time being none of them followed. Barbossa hoisted Jack to his feet again, and the Younger Turner turned to him. "Why?" he asked, looking down at the bit of fresh scaring showing upon his chest. Jack looked from him to Elizabeth. "Because everyone deserves a chance at happiness, mate." He glanced over his shoulder at Hector before turning and hugging both Will and Elizabeth tightly.  
"Thank you, Jack."  
Sparrow stepped away, waving off their affection. "Besides, what's eternity to me? There's sure to be loads of alternatives to cutting out me heart and binding myself to The Dutchman." He glanced across the bow to the Pearl. "Besides...that's the only ship I'll ever love." There was an irony somewhere in that statement that was not missed by his friends, and they bid each other farewell again, Elizabeth wrapping her arms around Barbossa and kissing his cheeks. "You'll come by when you're in port, won't you?" she asked.  
"Aye, as often as I can." he nodded, glancing at Will. "So long as Mr. Turner doesn't mind."  
"I think I can oblige that request."  
They shook hands, Will giving him a sly grin. "Perhaps I'll see you soon?"  
"I'd not be countin' on it," the older pirate chuckled.

 

***

 

They reached the shores of Tortuga by nightfall, with a crew that was all too eager for a little shore leave. They moored themselves into the harbor and made orders to repair all the rotten and damaged wood from the ship, mend the shredded sails and restock their supplies and armory at the earliest convenience. They doubted they would have much trouble from the remainder of Beckett's armada, for with their leader quite sunk, they seemed to have lost their nerve.  
Gibbs was one of the last to make his way down the gang plank, eager for a good drunk at the tavern and perhaps the company of a girl or two. He stopped in his retreat, catching sight of Jack lingering aboard, gazing silently out at the sea. "Will ye not be goin' ashore, Cap'n?" he asked curiously. "I'll buy ye a drink!"  
Jack smiled warmly at his old friend. "No, Mr. Gibbs. I'll be mindin' the ship for the evening. But you go on, enjoy yourself." Gibbs nodded in understanding and trotted down the plank, disappearing into the port with a rowdy good natured cheer and shout from other familiar patrons. The stars could be seen clearly in the night sky for the first time in weeks, and Jack felt some comfort in their presence. He almost didn't hear the soft thud of Barbossa's boot falls approaching him until he felt the other man lean up against him from behind and move aside some of his dreads and braids to kiss his neck. "Still thinkin' on your losses, my love?"  
Sparrow smiled, leaning back easily into the other man. "No. Just musing." he answered. He turned around to face the other pirate, who was looking at him lovingly in the dark. He took Jack's hand and slid the jade dragon ring back into it's proper place on his thumb. "Seems we've come full circle now, hasn't it?"  
"Funny how that works, eh?"  
"Any regrets?"  
"Not anymore."  
Jack drew him down into another kiss and both men found themselves feeling more complete than they had in a long stretch of years. Barbossa broke away after a time, giving Sparrow a hungry look and a wolfish grin; "Ye know...we've the ship to ourselves."  
"Aye." Jack chuckled, almost blushing. The next thing he knew Barbossa and sweeping him off his feet with surprising ease before tossing him over his shoulder and making for their cabin. "Oh no! Hector! Wait a moment! I never agreed to...Hector! HECTOR!"  
Barbossa cackled and locked the door behind them.

 

 

It was the wee hours of the morning before either man called for cessation in their love making, with both men fitfully sweat drenched, teeth marked, lightly bruised and pleasantly sore. Hector was half asleep, trying to catch his breath, chuckling lightly as Sparrow tickled him with his lips and facial hair across his naked stomach below the sheets. He lifted the blanket, revealing a head of dark hair that was free from it's usual red head scarf as Jack licked a line from his hip up to his ribs. "That tickles," the older pirate chuckled, lifting his head so he could see his face. "You didn't mind before," Jack purred, eyes dark and shining in the candle light.  
Hector tugged him up by ponytail fixed to the left side of his scalp and stole another kiss from him. "This old sea dog needs a reprieve," he replied after releasing him, though Jack was still nibbling at his neck.  
"Not tired already, are you?"  
"I've only put you on yer back four times in the last five hours, Sparrow."  
"Not to mention those three times on my front...then that time over the desk..." Jack grinned mischievously. Hector shushed him, " If ye want more of the same, I need a rest."  
"Ah, well that's a good argument then." Jack chuckled fondly. He laid his head on his chest and settled in quietly with the blankets tucked around them, and the entire cabin reeking of the heavy musky smell of salt air and sex. Barbossa fell into a doze, fingers scratching lightly through Jack's tangled mane of hair as Sparrow stared out the windows at the sea beyond. He felt a contentment that he hadn't felt in years, a sense of security and love that he had given up on ever having again, filling the void with casual affairs and the occasional tryst in whatever seedy port he happened to find himself in.  
But one thing was still gnawing at the back of his mind; "Hector?"  
"Mmmm...?"  
"What are we to do about the Pearl?"  
"What about her?" Hector wasn't entirely aware that Jack was really speaking, to him it was mostly a dream in his twilight state of sleep.  
"Who's going to be captain?"  
It was a valid question. After all, it was a preposterous notion to think that two captains could actually command one vessel. Hector was not about to relinquish his title as captain, even if it had been earned through spilling blood. Then again, it was almost always that way these days. And Jack certainly wasn't going to be anyone's first mate... His peace of mind was suddenly shrouded by this new conflict. Looking up, he gazed at Barbossa's sleeping visage. Sure, he looked sweet and peaceful now, but Jack knew what kind of temper was behind that facade. When it came time to set sail again, he would have no end of trouble deciding who would be in command.  
Jack sat up, found his clothes and began pacing the cabin. He had come to an impasse and now felt suddenly trapped and stiffened. He no longer knew how to balance a relationship with authority. And he doubted Barbossa had become any less stubborn over that long time they'd spent apart. Checking once more to make sure that his lover's breathing was deep and even and remained undisturbed by his movements about the room, he crept towards the bureau where Barbossa thought he had cleverly hidden the Mao Kun map. But he should have known better than to think there was any place on The Black Pearl that Jack did not know about. Without thinking about it, Sparrow took a dagger from the table and sliced apart the man circular chart from the rest of the map, hence making it much more manageable and easier to hide. Returning the broken bit of remains carefully into their canister and tucking them back in Barbossa's hiding place, he safely secured the rest within his jacket. Then he tugged on his boots and fetched his hat from it's fallen place on the floor, deciding that he'd creep ashore for a good stiff drink. Maybe a pint of rum or two with Gibbs would clear his head and he'd be able to decipher this quagmire he'd gotten himself into.  
He gazed back wistfully at Barbossa, kissing his cheek one last time and slipped out the door.

 

Hector woke a few hours later, feeling refreshed and happier than he'd been in a long time. He stretched like a cat across the bed and turned, searching for Jack in hopes of perhaps enticing the sleeping man into another quick bought of sex, only to find him gone. Barbossa sat up, blinking about the room. It was morning, but the ship was still quiet. The crew would not return from hours, hung over and satisfied, stinking of rum and whores. He searched for his clothes, pulling on his breeches and tying back his loose and unruly hair, to discover that all of Jack's clothing seemed to be gone as well.  
He ambled outside, peering about the deck. But there was no sign of Sparrow. He discovered Gibbs drunkenly staggering aboard then, singing loudly and off key to himself. "Cap'n!"  
"Mr. Gibbs," the other man addressed which much less humor and good cheer. "Have you seen Jack about?"  
"Jack? Jack...OH! Oh yes, the cap'n!"  
"Aye, the captain." Barbossa groaned, rolling his eyes. "Have ye seen him?"  
"Was drinkin' with 'im but a few hours ago...last I saw, he was off to give that wench Scarlet a toss or two...I think. Or was it Giselle?"  
A cloud came over Barbossa's face like a sudden storm, and even in his deep state of inebriation Gibbs knew it was trouble. "Oh, but uh...I'm sure he'll be back soon. After all, ye two kissed and made up, didn't ye? I heard him wailin' yer name all the way to the bloody tavern..."  
But Barbossa said nothing else to the man, turning and storming back inside, slamming the door so hard it broke from it's hinges and swung sadly in the breeze. "Uh oh. A lover's spat..." Gibbs whispered to the burlap teddy bear he was coddling. "We'd best go back where we came from," and off he went, too drunk to know better.

Barbossa found himself angry, even reasonably hurt, but not exactly surprised. Sparrow had long suffered a fear of being tied down, and he knew he was partly to blame for that. Sometime in the few hours of sleep he'd managed, Jack must have woke, gotten cold feet and ran off to find a cure in port, where he could drink himself to detachment, find a cheap fuck or two with a handsome sailor who didn't know any better or one of the usual girls, and convince himself that he was still free as the wind.  
It was the kind of behavior Hector had simply gotten too old to tolerate. "Run out on me, will ya?" He muttered. He took the charts from his hiding place, not bothering to inspect them and charged back out onto the deck, fully dressed this time. "Get ready to make sail!" He bellowed to any of the lingering crew who were listening. They jumped, awkwardly shouting in affirmation. He charged down the gangplank and found Gibbs still swilling rum among a heap of barrels left by the docks. "Mr. Gibbs!"  
"Sir!" The pot-bellied old sailor tried to stand at attention and instead found himself tumbling over in a heap of disorganized limbs. "Mr. Gibbs, ye be a disgrace to reputable sailors everywhere." The Captain muttered, taking something from his pocket and shoving it into the man's hand. "See that Captain Sparrow gets this, understand? Tell him I've a message for 'im..."

 

When Jack returned hours later, troubles blissfully far from his mind as he paraded about the well known Port with his two favorite ladies of the evening, ready to put his fears aside and work things out with Barbossa, he found that he was a tad too late...  
"Mr. Gibbs,"  
The old sailor, who had fallen into a blissful snooze upon the dank pier–for Joshamee Gibbs could sleep anywhere–looked up with a snort. "Is there any particular reason why my ship is gone?" Jack inquired. His first mate barely understood. "The ship? We're on the ship." He settled back to sleep, then suddenly came alive with a shout. "Jack! The ship is gone!"  
"Really?" Sparrow barked sarcastically. "And just where exactly, sir, has it gone to?"  
"Is it that one over there?" Giselle, the blonde woman in the gold dress asked. The four of them squinted into the distance, and could in fact see The Black Pearl just over the horizon. "There it is!" Jack grinned, almost relieved. "Why is it there?"  
Gibbs looked at him sheepishly. "Well, Cap'n sir...seems ye might have left Cap'n Barbossa a little bit scorned when ye lit off in the middle of the night without tellin' him." Jack glared at him hard. "And how exactly did he become aware of that little fact?"  
"I...might have let the cat out of the bag...sir..." He grinned, and Jack slapped him for lack of a better response. "I can't believe you let that man run off with my ship!"  
"Well I didn't know he was going to do that part!" Gibbs explained. He remembered the message that Barbossa left for him then and quickly searched his person. "But he did leave something for ya..."  
"And what be that?" Jack scoffed. He turned, seeing that Gibbs was holding his compass, which Jack had so carelessly left aboard the ship. "Said it would point the way, if you happened to change your mind on things."  
Sparrow softened, taking the precious item into his palm and opening the lid, watching the needle spin almost at once in the direction to which the Black Pearl was retreating. As Gibbs sauntered off with Jack's forgotten company, he stood smiling wistfully into the wind. "And so the chase begins again, luv." He put the compass back into it's rightful place in his belt and tapped his fingers against the slight bulge inside his coat where the stolen charts still remained. "First to the finish, then?"


End file.
